


Eternal Blaze

by FoxxyGoddess



Series: Wild At Heart [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: All errors are mine, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Finally Getting Posted, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Please Point Out Errors So I Can Fix Them, Rating may go up, Shapeshifter Bilbo Baggins, more tags to be added as the story goes, there is a pairing i just don't remember
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 22:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12518184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxxyGoddess/pseuds/FoxxyGoddess
Summary: Version 3Female Bilbo Baggins, who is a shape-shifter, goes off on an adventure to steal from a fire breathing dragon





	Eternal Blaze

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of The Hobbit movies, any of the books, or any of the characters. Though I would love to have Fili, Kili and Smaug, sadly it is not to be so. 
> 
> **Warning:** There will be blood, gore and death. Also this is always a different sex and unusual shape-shifting, just to give you a heads up. 
> 
> This is the third of several versions I'm writing, what girl!Bilbo changes into and her backstory is very different. Other then that the plots mostly the same, if you ignore any plotholes.

                    

~*~

                    

_I laid down at the cliff's edge scanning for movement along the field below as I had seen birds of prey do in trees._

_There was only the wind and small prey. Nothing worth the effort of leaving my perch._

_Off in the distance I heard howls, five or six in all._

_Worthy prey indeed, if not a pack and their prey._

_With ease I spread my wings and launched forward, the wind filling the membrane and held me aloft for a moment._

_Each down stroke of my wings took me higher and faster as I sought out my meal._

_I kept my eyes on the trees scanning and I saw them, only two but I could hear the howls of more somewhere in the distance. Running through the trees towards a meadow was my prey chasing its own prey._

_More joined as the buck they hunted raced ahead, blinded with fear._

_They were bigger then I thought they'd be, larger than any I'd seen before. Husky from a early spring full of young fawns._

_Their white fur like moving snow as they closed in on the buck. Despite the hunger growling in my stomach, I couldn't help but be entranced by their beauty._

_I watched, as one, the pack guided the buck into a dead end. A wall of rock with no incline to speak of, the only way out was to go back. But the wolves had already blocked the only escape._

_Before the wolves could get close enough to strike, I folded my wings in and dropped with rapid speed. At the last second, my wings snapped open to let me land without harm. The impact shaking the ground slightly as my claws left grooves in the earth._

_A few steps and my presence blocked the passage. There before me, eight pairs of eyes gazed at me in frozen fear. The smell of it alluring in a way I'd never encountered before._

_My veins burned with fire, my pulse thundered and I'm not sure what made me move, but I did. I fell to my instincts, feasting to my heart's delight._

_I heard my name being called. The voice was one I'd heard all my life._

_It was not until I heard my name did I return to myself and see the massacre I caused._

_"Briar," I heard my mother call out again. Sluggishly I lifted my head to find my mother fearlessly walking to me. A young, untrained dragon craving flesh._

_Uncaring of the blood she wrapped her arms around my neck. The thought of what I could have done to her had I not been pulled from my feeding frenzy._

_The horror that rolled through me was freezing. All I could think was that I didn't want to be this thing. This monster, ruled only by a mindless hunger. I wanted to be a hobbit like my father and his family._

_Suddenly, I felt my body contract as if having a fit. It felt tight, making my bones ache. In the space of one breathe, I felt as if I were being frozen and burned alive all at once, then it was gone. As if it had never happened._

_One moment my vibrant scales were shimmering with blood in the light, the next I was a small hobbit barely standing._

_"Mother." I said nothing else, my new voice shaking._

_My mother tightened her embrace, "I know sweetling, I know."_

_The shock was to great for any other words._

                    

~*~

                    

The memory of my first and only experience with true bloodlust woke me earlier than usual. It shook me enough to skip first breakfast. Instead I tended to my garden in the early morning light.

Two hours later, I cleaned myself up and started on clearing the mess that is Bag End's library. It littered with over a hundred generations' worth of sketchbooks and loose journals I'd been going through, deciding on what would stay and what would be returned to my hidden stash. I worked until just past second breakfast until the room was mostly back in order then took a break.

I'm sitting on the bench outside Bag End, reading one of my 'father's' books when I hear someone approach from down the lane. I don't bother turning from my book until they clear their throat. Looking up, I am met with the sight of a tall breaded man in a grey cloak. Unable to think of anything else to say I bid the stranger 'Good morning.'

"What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning? Or do you mean it is a good morning whether I want it or not?" The old man smiles to himself, "Or perhaps you mean to feel good on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating this a morning to be good on?"

I can't help but smile in response, "I mean it as it is meant, all and yet none."

The old man smiles in return.

"Is there anything I can help you with sir?" I ask, hoping he will give another ambiguous answer. Lore about my kind always mentioned a love of riddles, whether that's true for all dragons or just me I don't rightly know.

"That remains to be seen," he answers, "I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure."

"An adventure?" I ask and try to think of why someone would come to the Shire to start an adventure. Hobbits preferred their life of leisure over any kind of real excitement. "I doubt anyone west of Bree would be interested in adventures."

Grabbing my book up, I stand and gather my mail, "Well, good morning," I bow my head before turning to the house to get back to cleaning and sorting.

"To think I lived long enough to be Good Morning'ed by Belladonna Took's daughter as if I were selling buttons at the door."

"Beg your pardon, but who. . ." Recognition flashes through my mind at the mention of my last 'mother', "Gandalf."

The sight of Gandalf at my gate momentarily leaves me momentarily paralyzed. I am unable to speak, my heart pounding, as I listen to Gandalf's decision for me to join his friends in their adventure.

"Thank you, but I don't think I couldn't possibly go on an adventure at the moment. I have so many responsibilities that need immediate handling, you see," I say, walking backward to Bag End. "That is not a no so much as a ask me again at a later date. And do feel free to come back for tea or a meal if you like, and tell me more about this adventure you're planning. I'm sure I would be more willing to join then," A large part of me doesn't want Gandalf to leave as I close the door. To ask about things like my kin and the world beyond the lands of hobbits. To perhaps find others like me, just once.

But I can't, I had given my word to watch over from the skies west of Bree nor to reveal my true form outside the Shire until I was fully grown.

I let out a deep breath before moving to the kitchen and start on making a large lunch to have out in the fields. Sprouts of green leaves have begun to appear over the ground. The sight of hobbits tending the fields would be rather fascinating by midday, a lovely image to capture in my latest sketchbook.

                    

~*~

                    

The rest of the week passed as usual, with the exception that I was finding alternatives for what need my presence in the months to come. I had made my decision the day Gandalf had made his offer of adventure. Mother said there would come a time that I will wish to 'spread my wings and fly away'. That the Shire was no place for a dragon, no matter how much it felt like home. Perhaps it is time I found my own path. With that in mind, I knew I would return to Bag End once my adventure with Gandalf ended no matter what.

I set off on my daily walk, checking over the borders around the Shire for signs of any predator that might find a hobbit tasty. Just as my Mother and Father had asked of me when my body reached a size that I could no longer fix through the door of our small home.

Hobbits were gentle, peaceful, children of nature and magic. My Mother said them finding me was a blessing. It wasn't that hard to understand when she first found my egg and fell in love, along with my Father. The people of the Shire were a bit more cautious about having a baby dragon running loose. Few would be willing to care for such a creature.

Thankfully my parents, Blossom Took and Drungo Baggins, were such souls, following their hearts in taking me in and raising me as they're own. Together, they named me 'Briar Among The Clover'. I gained the name Baggins once I gained the ability to change and pass for a half-ling.

Though I am not truly a hobbit, I am my Mother's daughter through and through.

I miss both Mother and Father dearly. I miss all my parents, the loving families that took me in over the centuries. The lost of Belladonna and Bungo Baggins feeling the sharpest as they were the most recent.

                    

~*~

                    

At least twice a day, I was asked questions about my visitor which I answered with honesty. I could stretch the true or omit things but never out right lie. Supposedly, all dragons share this trait. If you believe the old tales, that is.

Of course, if I didn't answer at all gossip would abound like wild fire. Not that I ever gave one wit about such things. As a dragon choosing to live in the guise of a hobbit, I was nothing if not odd in so many ways.

People would still talk, of course, but that was the way of things. And they would talk of me as always, about my head far away in the clouds, passing through the forest without care of what I may encounter. Missing for hours on end at the oddest of times. Always drawing in my sketchbook with my fingers coated black from using a piece of coal rather than a feather pen and ink well. Only really eating at four of the six mealtimes, preferring lots of red meat over any fish and vegetables.

My not giving one thought to propriety about my attire, most times walking about in loose trousers. Always in my father's, Bungo's, old shirts or just an altered waistcoat of his, with no shirt to speak of. My uneven hair cut short to barely curl around the tips of my ears.

Of how my feet were smaller than most with only a little hair on them, like my 'namesakes' before me.

(The cause of that being that after awhile, I would want to live away from the Shire and leaving my home to a Baggins relative. Waiting a few decades to a century, I would then reclaim my home or be 'adopted' by those that had taken over the care of Bag End.

It was part in parcel to being a dragon hiding plain sight, and every true Baggins knew that. My heritage is the best kept secret of the Shire. I am its protector, to all those who lived there and their way of life.)

And now the Shire had new things to talk of, my eccentric guest and his possible reason for visiting. Why I seemed to be preparing for leaving when I usually would have waited another twenty years before going. All of it adding to the unusual hobbit-shaped dragon that is me, Briar Baggins.

                    

~*~

                    

The ring of the bell at my door at suppertime is an unpleasant surprise, and the dwarf that invades my home is frankly alarming. Truly, he has no manners to speak of, gorging on my supper without so much as a please and thank you. The only thing helpful I get out of him being his name and that there are to be many more invading my quaint little home.

Without thinking too much on the possible size of the coming group, I start a large stew and put loaves in to the oven to heat them. Preparing more meat and some rolls, I pull out some tarts from the pantry.

I had just pulled out the loaves and was putting a second batch in when I hear the ring of someone at the door.

The second to show is rather more polite, though he too comes in after only giving his name. His greeting with Dwalin is rather unusual to say the least and together the brothers start in on the pantry. Thankfully I had moved all the food I had prepared for the journey into a different room farther back along with the rest of what I might need for traveling.

The third to arrive at the door is two rather attractive young dwarves, not that I'll ever tell them that after the younger, Kili, calls me 'Mister Boggins' and then tries to clean his boots on Belladonna's glory box. They help Dwalin move a table into my dinning room to join the other and make room. There is no point in arguing so I go back to the kitchen and check on the bread and stew.

By the time I finish the stew and pull the third set of loaves from the oven the bell rings again.

It seems as if all the dwarves have arrived by the fourth time the bell rings. Gandalf's arrival with them does not help them find their manners in the least, but Gandalf at least wipes his feet as he inclines his head to me then to the others making their way into my home and I know I can't be mad. However ill mannered, my guests need food and a bit of rest, which I will provide, for I had offered Gandalf a meal when he came back. By now what little indignation I may have had gave way to the feeling of resigned hostess.

Their treatment of my good dishes is both terrifying and amazing. The way they toss them about without breaking and singing in tune with each toss leaves me a bit enthralled. Though I will never wish for a repeat performance.

The arrival of the last dwarf is more of a surprise than I am ready for.

Thorin Oakenshield, as Gandalf calls him, asks me what I know of fighting. Being what I am I have no need to wield a weapon. I can merely change and have my attacker fall unconscious from fear at the sight of me. Not that I will tell him that.

But to be called a grocer and then a burglar. His attitude towards me is less than pleasant, the others are at least playful with their words. This one, however, is just plain rude and I want nothing more than to swat the rude dwarf out the door. I settle for offering him the last of the stew and a loaf of bread. Even when insulted, I've been raised again and again to be thoughtful of others, hobbit manners winning over dragon instincts.

Once Thorin is given dinner the reason all thirteen dwarves and Gandalf are in my home came to light. I don’t know what to think as the group begins discussing the adventure so I stand back in the doorway and listen to the others give reports, only venturing forward to refill newly emptied mugs with what remains of the ale in my pantry.

"You're going on a quest?" I can't help but ask as I hand Dwalin his refilled drink.

"Briar, a little more light if you please," Gandalf asks. Grabbing a candle and lighting it with my breath discreetly, for I am out of matches, before I turn back toward the room. I watch as Gandalf unrolls a map, and the first thing my eyes find is the figure of the dragon etched in ink. Beside it, the words inscribed in curling black ink, I read aloud. "The Lonely Mountain . . .".

There are some grunts at the mention about portents and ravens. They speak of how they lost their home to the dragon Smaug, a Great Fire Drake, and of how they wish to return to their homeland. Of how they will fight to reclaim Erebor, defeating the dragon and anything that dares try and stop them.

Thorin, it seems, was the only one who could keep any in line, his words bringing home the need for their journey. It is obvious by the look on Thorin's face and the key Gandalf hands to him, they are going to take back the mountain.

I can feel nothing but the need to go as well, to help them in anyway I can. I had already made my choice, but I know I will never forgive myself if I just sent them on their way. I will go with them no matter the consequences.

"That's why we need a burglar," says the youngest dwarf Ori.

"A good one, too," I say absently. "An expert, I'd imagine."

"And are you?" asks the dwarf with the ear trumpet.

I pause. Oh no, he can't seriously think I am. "Am I what?"

"He says he's an expert!"

I open my mouth to protest, but no words come, just an almost squawk. I look to Gandalf in confusion, who says nothing on the matter, though Balin speaks for me.

"Master Baggins hardly seems like burglar material."

"That's because I am no burglar," I say. "I wouldn't be of much help to you for such a thing."

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk," says Dwalin. "Burglar or not."

"Me? A burglar?" I mutter as the dwarves begin to argue among themselves. Gandalf is absolutely no help at all.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet, and can pass unseen by most, if they choose. Briar more so than any other of the Shire," he says, and that was true enough, I think to myself. "And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him."

"The dragon . . ." I begin, thinking of finally meeting one of my own.

"--and Master Baggins has a great deal more to offer than any of you know," Gandalf promises.

There was a pause that no one is willing to fill, when Thorin looks over his shoulder, assessing me, and then to Gandalf, his expression grave.

And then Gandalf says, "You must trust me on this."

"Give him the contract," Thorin says, and I have a folded, orderly if a little bedraggled paper shoved into my hands.

On the bright side, I think, knowing I am going with them no matter what is said, one-fourteenth of the total profit seems more than fair enough for such a journey.

"Lacerations . . . Evisceration," I gulp. "Incineration!?"

"Oh, aye, he'll melt th'flesh off yer bones in the blink of an eye."

"Oh."

The dwarf Bofur went on, but I don't remember what else he said. The image was quite enough, of dragon fire searing the flesh right off my guests bones, as I'd seen done with the meat I'd helped prepare for feasts.

"Air. I need air."

And with that, I am out the door and leaning over the bench, my cheek resting on the cold stone as my stomach rolls. My mind going over what little I had ever found of my own kind; how most females were just larger in size than the males, though Great Fire Drakes being the exception and the second largest breed.

All dragons crave treasure of a sort, in varying degrees. The males' lust for gold matched only by their lust for a mate, as the lore goes. Massive fangs and claws easily rending through the leather soft under bellies to capture the foolish unmated female that dared fly to close.

Most of the larger breeds of dragons were cruel, greedy creatures that would devour anything that crossed their sight, with the exception of hatchlings.

The only thing more dangerous than a male dragon guarding his hoard, is a parent protecting their hatchling.

It took more than a few minutes to calm before I can go back inside.

"I'm alright," I say, my stomach still reeling from nearly being sick all over the floor. The hands of a couple of dwarves patting my shoulders and arms in concern as I pass. Without thought, I collapse into an armchair beside the fire. I find myself holding a cup of chamomile and wondering if the particularly agreeable, tea-loving dwarf Dori had anything to do with it.

I look around blearily as they leave the living room, assumably because of Gandalf's bid for a private conversation.

"Just let me sit quietly for a moment."

Gandalf sighs.

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long," Gandalf says pointedly.

"Hmm, taking care of my family home, you mean," I retort.

"A house without an ounce of your mother's spirit left in it," Gandalf says. "Of all the things I expected to find when I came back to Bag End, I certainly did not expect to find a hobbit so faint-hearted, the word of a dwarf would nearly fell her."

"Well I'm sorry if the idea of facing a possibly enraged dragon does not sit well with me, Gandalf," my voice and hands shaking with suppressed anger. "Give me a nice hearth or a campfire any day. Who would be foolish enough to face a Great Fire Drake?" My voice growing steady as I vent out my fear for the others, "What were they thinking when they decided to go on a quest with only thirteen dwarves in all? Not even a small army, thirteen dwarves? They'd be killed! Incinerated! And you, how could you lie about me? What were you thinking, leading them to believe I'm some kind of burglar?"

"I was thinking, Briar Baggins, that this adventure might be something of value to you," Gandalf says gravely. "You may be a Baggins, Briar, but you are also a Took. No matter how hard you try, you cannot kill the part of you that is your mother's daughter."

We sit in silence, and I sip the tea finding it sweet and soothing, thinking over how little Gandalf knew of the Took and Baggins families and how much I can never be my mother's daughter.

The rest of the night is a blur; I forgot to sign the contract, though I remember the singing. It pulled me into a deep sleep I rarely experienced outside of my hidden nest.

                    

~*~

                    

The next morning seems again just like any other morning, except there is a sense of emptiness to my home that hadn't been there before. Or, I think looking down at the contract, it would probably be more accurate to say that I felt the emptiness of my home as it had always been. I can't waste any more time than I already have, who knows how far the others have gone ahead. It is time I head out, the deep seated need to go refusing to be ignored any longer.

"No sense borrowing trouble going unprepared. Thankfully, I thought ahead." Trying to shake off my dour mood, I rush to the back room where I'd started storing everything I might need for my journey with Gandalf for the past week. Quickly, I pack Belladonna's traveling pack full. My newest sketchbook and spare drawing utensils, two full changes of clothes, a large drying cloth, and a freshly cleaned old bed roll. Some well stored food, a metal bowl and a large water skin, a second with ale that would keep longer. That left over some room for two bars of soap, I would rather not make myself sick by unknown smells.

I stop dead when I see the contract on the table, plainly awaiting my signature.

Quickly, I run with it back to my writing desk, hastily signing the contract and grabbing the two letters I wrote after Gandalf had first showed up at Bag End. One to Hamfast Gamgee to look after things, to let any young hobbit who wished to tend to my garden in my place and to keep others out of Bag End and my things until I return. The second would go to the Thain stating that I would return, but should I not within three years time that all of my things go into the care of my young 'cousin' Drogo Baggins.

Rushing up the stairs, I pull from under my bed a small box. Inside was shimmering gold, silver, and jewels, a few items that I'd come across during my hunts. Plucking a chain of bejeweled silver to offer to Smaug. Entering a dragon's hoard empty handed is the height of foolishness, I place it around my neck to keep safe.

I pull on my old coat and my Belladonnas pack, not caring what other hobbits might think of my actions as I run out the door locking it behind me, then I am off.

The pack bouncing against my back, letters in one hand, I frantically call out to Gamgee. I ask that he send out the other letter and to keep Lobelia out of Bag End while I am away.

Running, it only took a few minutes to catch up with them. I'm not even out of breath, vaguely waving the contract in the air. I look to Balin as he takes it from me to look it over.

"Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield," he says smiling down at me. The sound of the others' amused laughter makes me smile back at Balin.

I'm not sure what to think of the way Thorin looks at me from atop his pony, but instinct makes my back straighten and look back with all the dignity I can muster.

"Give him a pony."

Despite my pleas, no one listens and I shortly find myself dropped into a saddle. The discomfort of riding made its self known within moments, finally I heave a sigh as I settle to sit in a way that doesn't have me rocking back and forth with the pony's movements.

"Come on, Nori, pay up!" I turn to see a small pouch of money flying through the air, followed by several others.

"I don't think I want to know, do I?"

I notice that Thorin neither caught nor threw any money, but Gandalf caught a larger one than most as he explains why.

"We're just lucky these dwarves never bet against your mother, she would have cleaned the lot out within moments." I just chuckle as I sit up straighter, thinking of how these dwarves would have fared against Belladonna Took.

I can't help thinking to myself that this was going to be interesting journey if this is how it starts out.

                    

~*~

                    

After a while it feels as if Myrtle is as pleased to have me ride her as I am. The thought that I have to ride her, when I can just as easily keep up on foot makes the ride all the more discomforting. The fact that I could be in Erebor in less than a few days by air make my skin itch with the need to fly.

Most worrisome of all is Thorin and Gandalf, locked in a heated conversation at the front of the group and semi frequently glancing back at me.

By the time we stop for the night I am ready to fall off my pony, but I gather firewood as I am ordered. It is rather easy to find, my vision far better than the others. At least there is a good meal after, with the company laughing and talking loudly to one another. Left alone, I had some free time so I pulled out my book and piece of coal and sketched by the light of the fire.

While Ori had noticed my book the first night, it wasn't until after two more full of glancing at me did he finally come over and sit beside me. "Oh," the note of surprise drawing the attention of the others close by, "I've never seen anyone use coal like that before." Bofur turned from his conversation with Nori to look over his shoulder at what lay in my hands, "That's not bad, that is." Reaching out he pointed his finger along the image of most of the company around the fire. "That'd be Balin and Oin right?"

"Yes."

"Then that makes this Bifur, Bombur and Gloin and these two over here Fili and Kili," Ori pointed first to one side of the drawing then the other. "You even got the beads in Dori's braids. It's very well done. Do Hobbits usually draw with such things?"

"No, just me. Here, it's yours," I say as I pull the page from my sketchbook. "It's not perfect, there are not as many details as I'd like, but you're more than welcome to it."

Ori looks hesitant to take it, so I place it in his hand and say, "I can always draw it again if I want when I return to Bag End."

The smile that spread over Ori's features was brilliant as he carefully folds the picture and places it in his pocket.

"Can you really draw that again after all that time?" Bofur asks, his head tilting.

I feel myself smile as I turn to answer, "Yes, once I fix an image in my mind I can draw it whenever I want at a later time. If you want, when this is over, I can draw you your favorite part of our adventure to keep."

His eyebrows rise in surprise, "That'd be . . ." He smiles, "Thank you, that'd be wonderful, Mister Baggins."

After that I went and put away my sketchbook and coal at the bottom of my pack. The rest of the night was spent in relative quiet, if you don't count Bombur snoring or the sound of dwarves whispering.

                    

~*~

                    

The next two weeks are spent the same as the first day. Breakfast then riding until the sky started going dark. I'm sent to search for firewood followed by a hot meal, loud talk and laughter, occasional singing now and then.

I feel like my backside has been beaten the first few times I slide from the saddle. After the second day Bofur shows me how to sit in the saddle without hurting. He, Ori and Kili are the ones who usually ride close by to speak with me. Asking random questions about Hobbit life as we ride with Fili farther along adding one thing or another now and again.

Bofur kept interrupting with jokes now and again, which I have to admit were funnier than I thought they'd be. The ones that turned lewd, he leaned in to whisper after the first few caused Ori's face to go pink.

It had taken a few days for me to realize that they always referred to me as male. I honestly wouldn't have noticed if Bofur hadn't made a reference to . . . a body part I did not have, and looked at me like I would understand. I see no point in telling them different, I've never cared what others thought of me.

It had rained on the ninth day, which was a blessing as it washed away the smell of sweating dwarves and resulted in Gandalf talking of the other wizards. Hearing that there were four other wizards in the world, one white, one brown and two blue, was rather interesting. Not that he had much to say on the matter.

Setting up camp by the cliff side was a relaxing experience for me as I would sometimes rest in caves on a cliff after hunting. Though trying to sleep so near Bombur snoring was something I never wish to experience again. I'd been lucky up until tonight with being placed on the other side of camp.

There was no way I can sleep, so I go through my pack to find a treat to offer to my pony.

"Here you go, Myrtle. Our little secret," I whisper as I sneak her an apple.

Admittedly, it hadn't take long to warm to the pony. She is a sweet creature, and she was better company than some of the dwarves, who hadn't yet warmed to me being with them. Dwalin in particular was rough in his treatment of me, not that there was anything to really complain about. I am still essentially a stranger to them and their ways.

When I hear the first howl, I blink.

"Wolves?"

Fili and Kili still awake, both keeping watch, looked up.

"No," Fili assures. "Those aren't wolves."

"No," says Kili. "Orcs."

"Orcs?" I suck in my breath realizing that I'd woken Thorin, whose eyes are wide and bleary at the word.

"Throat-cutters. There'd be dozens of them out there," Fili says with a shrug. As if this was a regular occurrence. "The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."

The sound of Thorin's voice cuts through the air.

"You think that's funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

I take a breath, watching as Kili apologizes, hanging his head in shame.

"You know nothing of the world."

His words struck Fili and Kili numb by the looks of it, as Thorin walked to the edge of the crag, looking out into the darkness.

"Don't mind him, laddie," Balin says, walking over to the three of us. I lean against the sloping stone. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

I look to Balin, eyes questioning. Fili seemed to understand, his gaze passing over us to focus on Thorin, though Kili kept his head low, still affected by Thorin's words.

"Orcs took his family from him," says Balin. "His grandfather and eventually, even his father." I freeze, the sharp intake of my own breath cutting through the quiet.

"After the dragon took Erebor, King Thror attempted to reclaim the great dwarven kingdom of Moria. But already, long before they had even made the attempt, orcs had taken it for their own. A great many of these creatures kept us from what we could have made our home, and King Thror decided to take it back, even if it meant a war."

I slide down the rock until my bottom touches the ground, resting my head against the cold stone. The concept of war was a mostly foreign thought to my nature.

"We call it now the Battle of Azanulbizar, known to others as Dimrill Dale. We were victorious, though not without cost. My own father perished in the battle," Balin explains, the hard smile of an old wound etched into his face, "and Thorin lost his own grandfather to Azog, the Defiler. A foul enemy, a pale orc, who rode atop a white warg. His son Thrain, Thorin's father, went mad with grief. When he vanished from the battlefield, to death or imprisonment no one knew. The death of our king demoralized our kin, made the battle harder and harsher for we who were left fighting. But not Thorin."

And with a misting in his eyes, Balin told us of the fight between the pale orc and Thorin, and how the dwarf prince had defended himself with nothing but an oaken branch, the very origin of his name. I can hear the admiration in Balin's voice, the pride in the one he now knew as king, as I look across the fire to the dark crag at the figure Thorin cut.

The figure of a king.

Learning of Thorin's past, hearing the tale of his grandfather's death and the loss of his father along with so many only makes me desire to help them reclaim their home all the more.

I know why I am here in the first place, to help them get back their home from one of my own. Now I have another, to see this lost prince return his people to their home under the mountain once more.

                    

~*~

                    

I never thought we would encounter trolls. That we had was the second most horrific experience of my life up to that point.

It had started a few days later when we had stopped to set up camp for the night at a burned down farmhouse with Thorin and Gandalf arguing, and Gandalf choosing to leave for a time.

Other than that everything went as it usually did as darkness fell. I was sent for firewood then as one of the last to eat I was sent out to give those standing guard their food.

I brought stew to Fili and Kili, only to find that two of the ponies were missing. I'd followed them to go looking for the now four missing ponies, my nose started to itch the farther we went. That we had happened upon trolls, intent on eating our rides was not something I could stand for.

So without one word, I handed the dwarves their stew and snuck over before either could stop me. I crept past the trolls using the shadows to where the ponies had been corralled. Thankfully they were well-behaved, not panicking at all, just waiting patiently for me to free them. Quietly as I could, stopping whenever one of the trolls moved or turned, I focused and tore into the rope with my claws.

Not five minutes later, I was able to cut the ponies loose without catching the attention of the trolls. The poor ponies fled, wanting nothing to do with me or the trolls.

My triumph was short-lived, for along with the tramp of ponies fleeing was the sound of angry trolls crashing into each other to catch them. It wasn't until one nearly fell on me that they noticed me at all.

I had a moment, directly after being hung upside down and then dropped, that I genuinely wished I had changed to my other form and dealt with the trolls myself. For my kind a troll of their size would be quite a mouthful, but my claws could pierce through their leathery flesh easier than a hot blade through butter.

Scurrying under their grasping hands only stalled them for a time, though it had caused even more noise, drawing the rest of the company near.

The dwarves launched an attack just as my leg was caught. Dropped once more, I tried to stay out of the way being that I had no real means of fighting back without revealing some part of my scaled form. It worked for the most part until one of the trolls finally caught me again.

Being used to force the others to surrender left a horrible feeling in my chest. That I had to watch as the trolls slowly try to cook my friends alive made me sick to my stomach. If worst came to worst, I could change and hope the others don't try to kill me once they're freed. Though listening to the monsters talk increased my feeling of dread, it gave me an idea to stall for time until sunrise or Gandalf returned to save us.

The sound of anger at my suggestion to skin them was only matched by their outrage at them having parasites. It seemed only Thorin realized the gist of my plan, kicking the others to have them play along.

Thankfully Gandalf came at just the right time to save us all.

The looks I got from the others afterward, accompanied by a great deal of muttering about parasites were anything but friendly. I didn't bother to hide the fact that I rolled my eyes at the lot of them. Half the company went searching for the ponies, returning with them shortly. Some had actually gone hunting for the troll-hoard and spent a good hour or so in that cave burying gold. I wouldn't go any closer than necessary, my nose burning if I dared get close, the stench was that palpable.

The thought that I might have to use the sword Gandalf gave me causes mixed feelings. To wield a sword is not in my nature, instinct demands I use my claws, fangs, and fire. Though to wield a blade would lessen the need to change in the face of danger and its use as a warning against orcs and goblins would be invaluable.

Once they were finished with the hoard we went and retrieved our things, moving camp so that we could get some rest after the night we had. After half an hour of watching the others rest, I decide I can't sleep with the smell of troll clinging to me. Getting up I look through my pack for my soap and large drying cloth, grabbing both and a clean change of clothes, I turn to where I hear a river running a ways off.

"Where do you think you're going, burglar?" Thorin asks, tense and unwilling to sleep while the others did.

"To bathe before I cut off my own nose just to be free of this horrible stench," I say as calmly as I can as I breathe through my teeth. "You might want to send the rest along to bathe as well after they've woken. I'll be back as soon as I can breathe without wanting to gag." Then I run off to the sound of Gandalf chuckling at my choice of words.

"Don't venture to far, burglar! Call only if you need help!" He yells at my back as I vanish between the trees.

Then all I can hear is the low whispers of the forest around me. The scurrying of animals and leaves rustling in the wind as I run by.

Putting on speed I reach the river at a full run, dropping my things at the edge without stopping. I jump in with all my clothes on, my head going under before my feet find the bottom. Holding my breath, I swim toward the shore. Staying under for a few minutes, hoping that just being in the water would rid me of the worst of the smell.

Unlike the hobbits I live with, I have no fear of being in water. I am in no danger of drowning, my instincts drive me to be in water as long as possible. If I come across a problem I can change and be touching either shore instantly.

I keep an ear trained to the forest, to listen for anything that comes toward the river as I wade to the edge. Reaching out, I grab my soap, then wade back to the deeper parts. Scrubbing myself over my clothes was the quickest way to get them clean. By the time I change into what I brought, what I'm wearing now will be mostly dry.

Holding the soap tightly, I go under a second time washing the suds from my clothes. Coming back up I head for the shore again, but toward a rock formation that was already starting to heat from the sun. Stripping, I place my shirt, coat, trousers, and, in place of proper lady garments, a highly altered waistcoat on the rocks separate from each other.

Nude as the day I was born, I swim back out toward the middle of the river once more scrubbing everywhere. Best to clean myself up now, I don't know when I'll next get a chance to properly bathe. Not that I have ever minded rain, it's just wasn't the same as submerging fully into water. The sound of fluttering birds and curious rabbits when ever one came close mixed with rush of the water over rocks on the far side.

It took me longer to wash off the smell of troll than I had first thought.

The sound of someone coming through the trees nearly startled me.

I go under, quickly swimming to the edge, removing the suds as I swim. I walk on the shore wrapping my drying cloth around me as I hear more than one voice.

Off in the distance I can hear my companions move through the forest toward the river. I dry as quickly as I can then dress with my hair still damp.

I reach for the rest of my now fully dry clothes from the rocks as the first dwarf comes through the trees.

Kili spots me with ease just as his brother came walking up behind him.

"There you are! We were wondering where you had gotten off to." Kili says as he and his brother walk closer.

"I was taking a bath, which by the smell of it you both need just as badly," I say, jokingly covering my nose as they reach me at the riverbank.

The look of surprise on Fili's face as Kili pushes him into the river is priceless. "You're absolutely right, this one definitely needs a good cleaning," he laughs.

I laugh along with them as Fili pulls his brother down into the water and they start a mock water battle. "Here, this will help get the smell out," I hold out my soap to Fili who is closer to the edge.

"It's better than smelling of troll," I prompt after Fili sniffs the soap then startles at the faint smell of apples. "Try and bring it back to me in one piece." I say as I walk away as more of the company shows up to rid themselves of the troll stench.

Thorin and Gandalf are all that remain at camp. Thankfully Gandalf has no need to bathe as he hadn't made direct contact with the trolls.

I speak as I pack away my things, "You should join them, you smell almost as bad I did. If you go now you might get there before the soap runs out. Gandalf and I can watch over the camp."

Thorin doesn't move, only gives me a look.

"Go, please," I nearly beg, "before your smell makes me or the others sick," as I move to the other side of camp to escape the troll odor.

"Briar is right, you know. None of the others will wish to be near you smelling like that," Gandalf chuckles. "We are more than capable of watching over things here."

With a grunt, Thorin gets up and walks away toward the river. Once he is out of range, I go back to my bed roll. Combing my fingers through my now dry hair, I lay down. "Gandalf, I'm going to try and catch up on my sleep. Wake me when most of the company has returned, please?"

"Of course, Briar," he answers back. "Rest now, little hobbit."

                    

~*~

                    

I wake to the sound of Kili and Ori talking close by. Without thought, I yawn and stretch on my bed roll as far as I can. When I open my eyes the sun is already in the middle of the sky.

Some had come back from washing, a few were still dripping from their beards.

Not wasting a moment, I get up and start putting away my bed roll. Seeing I am awake, Kili comes over to return what is left of my soap. It is now a third of its size. I smile at the look on his and Ori's face, clearly wanting to ask how I came across such a unique smelling item.

Ignoring their questioning looks, I finish packing then start helping in cleaning up camp. Once the rest returned, we'd be on our way.

At the last moment, I remember to thread the belt and sheath of my new sword along side the belt holding up my trousers, hoping I'll never have an occasion to use it. Still, better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

I have to bite back a smile as the others pass by me as they return to camp. I know exactly who else had gotten to use my soap after Fili and Kili.

I keep silent as we move, hoping to leave the stone trolls and their hoard far behind us.

                    

~*~

                    

The sound of someone coming through the forest brought the dwarves closer to one another to face the danger together.

A few were almost run down by a strange man riding in a sleigh made of sticks and pulled by what looks like rabbits. Though it seems that Gandalf knows him as Radagast the Brown, for he pulls him away to speak with privately. The others put away their weapons at the sight of Gandalf being friendly with the other wizard.

But before any of us can even think of what the half crazed man might be rambling about, there was the echo of a growl, amidst the chattering of the others. Beside me Bofur froze, and I knew I wasn't imagining it.

"Was that a wolf?" I ask as I look about. "Are there wolves out there?"

"No," Bofur says, almost fearful. "No, that was no wolf."

"Wargs!" Thorin yells, just as the beast strikes. Riding in from the high rocks that surrounds us, the biggest wolf I've ever seen in my life. I can feel the heat of its body as it passes over us to attack the others.

Thorin slashes high, taking it down as it lands, though a second attacks quickly. Kili shoots it down, and it is dead by the second arrow. Up close the thing looks like a wolf, magnified and twisted into something from a nightmare. Roughly larger than a horse, higher in the shoulder, it was longer from snout to tail.

"Warg scouts," Thorin says breathlessly. "Which means an orc-pack is not far behind."

"Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin?" Gandalf demands. Thorin denies telling anyone else, and under the circumstances, I doubt he would have told anyone.

"You are being hunted," Gandalf says gravely. "We must go, swiftly, before they find us."

"The ponies are gone, scared off." Ori says as he ran back from trying to retrieve them.

I am pressed closer into the Company, where Bofur put a hand on my shoulder, nodding carefully, as if to reassure me.

Radagast offers to lead the orc-pack away, and he does for the most part help give us enough time to escape.

When it comes time to run, it is Bofur who makes sure to stay by my side. Bofur and his brother and cousin, who runs much faster than I would have given them credit for.

Somewhere in the fray, pushed and pulled in the throng of thirteen dwarves, I find myself at the front with Thorin for a moment. As we hide behind the enormous jutting stones, he pushes me back, and Bofur takes my arm. I would have protested to being pushed and pulled around, but I can hear the puffs of a warg's breath as it climbs atop the rock right above us.

I think back to my hunts, waiting from above to pounce on helpless prey, the hunger clawing in my gut. The need to tear my prey apart, to leave nothing but a bloodied smear upon the ground.

The proximity of their enormous bodies and their puffing breaths, I feel my own breath shorten, my heart seizing. Body tensing to brace for the change, to fight back and hunt those that would dare hunt me.

When Kili shoots the warg and its rider, and the others beat them down, it is like the vise around my chest was released. These are dwarves, not woodland creatures; they will not ignore my change nor faint at the sight of me.

And then we are running again.

It wasn't long before we are surrounded and not much longer than that before Gandalf vanishes.

"Where's Gandalf?" shouts Dori.

"To arms! The wizard has abandoned us!" I nearly fall as I am thrust back by Dwalin before he pulls out his massive battle axes.

"Hold your ground!" Thorin orders.

I pull out my sword despite not knowing how to properly wield it.

"Get under cover, lad, there's nothing you can do with that," Bofur shouts, but I shake my head even as my grip on the sword tighten.

My voice is calm, "I can give one a bellyache if it tries to eat me."

It amazes me that they can laugh at such a time, but laugh they do, even as Gandalf pokes his head out from the rocks. "This way, you fools!"

Nearly all of us are in the crevice when the ugliest creature I've every seen in my life comes close, riding a warg. I don't even blink as Kili shoots it, making it tumble forward, beast crushing rider. It takes a hard shove to make me fall down to where the others are, just as the warg scouts begin to fall.

I nearly drop my sword and crash into Kili on the way down. Stopping short, only to have Thorin topple me over as I turn to look back, knocks the breath out of me. I drop my sword as I land with him on top. The moment he pushes off my chest to stand his eyes widen, "You're a . . ." One of the orcs fall over the rock opening, it tumbles down from the boulders above us. Without thinking I roll us out of its path. Our fronts fully plastered together, there was no doubt in Thorin's mind about my gender now.

He quickly stands, turning to Gandalf with murder in his eyes.

Ori helps me with a hand up, passing me my blade without a word, and I shove the sword back into the scabbard before I end up hurting someone or myself.

Thorin is shouting at Gandalf, switching between to different languages, and subjects it seems.

But before I can make heads or tails about what, Ori is leading me down the path in the stone, as Gandalf and his wry smile follow along.

It is only when I look upon the little kingdom, the beautiful city that I've only heard stories of, and seen in my dreams, do I realize the cause of Gandalf's mirth.

"Welcome to the Valley of Imladris," he says, smiling widely. "Though in common tongue it goes by another name."

"Rivendell," I murmur reverently to myself as the others grumble as we make our way down to the city.

                    

~*~

                    

A horn blows just after we reach the gates, a party of mounted elves ride in and circle the company. The one who had been in the lead, with a circlet on his brow, looks our way and speaks to Gandalf, "Mithrandir."

Gandalf says something in elvish and Elrond shakes his head. He dismounts, looking fluid and perfect as he responds, walking over to the wizard.

Turning back to us, he switches to common, "Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain."

"I don't believe we have met." Thorin says cautiously.

Elrond smiles, "You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled Under the Mountain."

"Indeed? He made no mention of you."

Elrond's next words are spoken in elvish. "What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?" Gloin asks, the company tenses on reflex. Gandalf laughs and says, "No, Master Gloin, he's offering you food."

They pull back to speak in a huddle as I slip forward to stand at the front.

"We accept, of course," I say quickly before anyone else can speak, elbowing Thorin in the side discreetly as he mutters something that I'm sure is uncomplimentary.

                    

~*~

                    

The elves of Rivendell are very good company, and always welcome guests. Even dwarves, though dwarves and elves don't always get along.

I understand now more than ever the words of the men passing through Bree, when the elves welcome the company for dinner. I have to bite back laughter when I see how bewildered they are at the table. Eating my own leafy meal quietly, I listen to the conversation unfolding between Elrond, Gandalf, and Thorin about the swords, glad I had dried meat stashed away in my pack.

"I wouldn't bother, laddie," says Balin, and before I can manage a response, the old dwarf gives me a wry look before continuing. "Swords are named for their great deeds in battle."

"So you're saying my sword hasn't seen battle?"

"I don't believe it is a sword," Balin shrugs. "I'm no expert on elvish craft, but if I were to fashion something so relatively small, it would be nothing more than a letter opener at best."

Balin's words barely sting, I don't let them bother me. Letter openers are straight blades, after all, and certainly not the shape my blade is. A dagger, perhaps. A dagger just perfect for the size of a hobbit.

The elves lead us to a large chamber, with a patio of sorts in front. The company, when the dwarves very clearly expressed their distrust, was not dissolved into lesser groups and everyone gathered together, save for myself and two others.

I accompany Thorin and Balin when they speak with Elrond in the library, and I listen as he speaks of moon runes, stating that they can only be read under the same shaped moon and time of year as the night they were written.

My mind drifts as they speak of when the map can be read in less than a month's time. So deep in my own thoughts, I nearly knock over a few stacks of books that are nearly as tall as me in my other form. As I try to keep from bumping into a fourth I thought I saw a golden-haired elf passing through the shelves. Male or female, I can't tell.

As the discussion ends the four part ways, Balin and Thorin leaving while Gandalf remains to speak with Lord Elrond. Not wanting to eavesdrop I turn and leave as well. Thankfully the first elf we'd met, Lindir, is in the hall and offer to guide me to my room.

The smile of gratitude doesn't leave my face, as I am shown to a room with a proper bathing chamber, a great big thing you could drown in. I am thinking about just sinking into it fully clothed when there was a perfunctory knock and then my room is invaded by two dwarves.

"I'm too tired to deal with either of your antics. You can say what you came to tell me in the morning," I say as I fall onto my soft bed.

Fili and Kili share identical grins as they loop their arms through mine and drag me away with them. I don't bother to fight back, just watch the turns so that I know my way back.

The next thing I know I am several passages away from my warm room and over in the corner of the courtyard. The sound of breaking wood jerks my head around to focus on the rest of the dwarves. Gloin had broken a perfectly acceptable wooden table. The obviously drunk redhead grins almost evilly at me and shouts, "Firewood!" before laughing outrageously. The other, equally drunken, dwarves proceed to break a few more wooden furniture pieces as the less drunk ones collect the wood and start up a fire.

Dwalin plops down by the growing fire and nearly catches Kili by the side of his coat. Fili drags him out of the larger dwarf's reach. I slip out of their grasp as they focus on Dwalin grasping at them both. Both voice their annoyance at my escape as I go to sit farther back from the fire.

Balin chuckles warmly at their predicament of failing to escape Dwalin. The powerful dwarf just laughs warmly and bodily holds Kili down who in turn holds down Fili. "Noow Lllads, yoour noot lleaving withoout a prooper mealll." Slurs out the drunken dwarf. Both try and fail to free themselves from Dwalin several times before giving up and enjoying the fire.

While I sit slightly away from the others but still close enough to feel the warmth of the fire I notice my pack had been placed with the others. Quietly I lean against it to stare at the stars over head. Ori comes and sit with me after a time.

"Excuse me Mister . . . uh, Miss Baggins? But may I ask you a few questions?" The young dwarf sits determined beside me, his pen and journal nowhere to be seen. I hum back an agreement as I continue to gaze at the sky.

"If you don't mind my asking, do all hobbits dress in trousers? Do you not have . . . um, 'gender specific' garments?" he face goes red at his words.

I slowly breath then look to him before answering. "Back in the Shire, do the men wear trousers and women wear dresses and skirts, you mean? Yes, same as the big folk. Some, no often, wear what others would not call proper attire. I am among those few, preferring to dress in what is comfortable rather than what is appropriate as my mother taught me. If someone is to judge me just by what I wear, then they are not worth knowing."

Ori frowns at me for a second, his thoughts clearly going over my words carefully. The frown turns into a shy smile and he holds out his hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Baggins, and I apologize for any offence I may have given."

I look with interest as we shake hands. "It is wonderful to meet you, Mister Ori. And there is no need for an apology. A simple misunderstanding, no harm done I assure you."

Ori smiles cheerfully back, then leans back against his own pack to look at the stars with me.

Nori hands us each a skewer with a couple of sausages and a few random carrots secured onto it after a few minutes. The prospect of meat ended any chance of more questions quickly and soon we are all sitting back enjoying the evening.

Like all the nights before, the dwarves joke and sing. This time though Bifur is the one singing songs, in khuzdul, which make even less sense with the hand motions the drunken dwarf makes to explain the song. Making everything funnier after he nearly hits himself in the face, twice.

Fili, Kili, Gloin, and Dwalin take it upon themselves to out do the singing dwarf with what can only be limericks in khuzdul. They thankfully don’t add any helpful body motions; I doubt anyone would be safe with those four flailing their limbs.

I find myself relaxing; I truly can’t help but enjoy the ridiculousness of the situation. I've never really seen anyone act so outrageously before and once I got over the shock of dodging limbs, I am laughing and smiling along with the rest at their antics. Even the grump of a dwarf, Thorin, is relaxing and smiling.

I watch as Nori suddenly pulls out a silver piece and holds it up for Bofur to see. Bofur grins at Nori and moves his hand down and makes a questioning motion. Nori makes a different hand motion. The two dwarves grin at each other before Bofur calls out to Bombur. The toymaker tosses one of his sausages at his redheaded brother.

The bench breaks from under Bombur. Everyone breaks down into laughter and Nori’s coin is flipped into Bofur’s hand. Dwalin loses the ability to speak properly and Gloin has lost his balance. Maybe the red haired dwarf hadn’t purposely broken that wooden table.

The rest of the night continued along the same line.

                    

~*~

                    

Despite the merriment of spending the evening with laughing drunken dwarves, I sleep peacefully in my own bed.

Waking late I take my time getting ready. After a long bath I decide to stretch to get rid of the soreness in my back. I'd had to forcefully remove my pack and myself from the company, there is only so much drunken singing I was willing to listen to past midnight.

I just finished stretching out, when there came a pounding on my door. At least this time they waited for me to answer instead of just barging in.

Yanking my door open to stop the unending abuse on the wood, I am met with the sight of Kili's chest, "Yes?" I say looking up at the two outside my door.

Kili says he came with word from Thorin that he requests my presence as soon as convenient, which probably meant that he'd roared at his nephew to fetch the burglar, and Ori, who was waiting for my attention. Once he has it, he say, "I have a few more questions, but it can wait til later."

"Nonsense, we can talk as we go to the library and see if they have any thing on hobbits that you can copy down."

"But..." He looks apprehensively at Kili then back to me.

"Come on, then, no time to waste," I say to Ori then turn to Kili. "If Thorin thinks I'll just rush over whenever he calls, he's got another thing coming. If he wants a word with me he can come find me himself." With that I walk out, and there was little choice except for Ori to follow me.

Kili follows us both to a point then slips away to join the others in the area the elves had offered them as a training field.

                    

~*~

                    

The two of us spent a good three hours in the library going over books, looking for anything that might be helpful on our journey. Ori and I had gone over more than twenty books before one of the elves came forward to offer us help.

After hearing of what we were doing, they offered to look for any regarding what we might come across on our way east and leave them for us on a table the next day.

There is no way to avoid such a clear dismissal, and as we walk out, Ori says, "Do you think... I mean, it's not as if I'd have to _like_ the elves, just to use their library, right?"

"I don't know," I say, trying to keep a straight face. "I've found it very difficult in the past to dislike anyone who provides me with books to read, unless they're very bad books indeed."

Gently punching me in the arm, Ori says, "Come on, the others will be waiting."

"You go, I'm going to go find the kitchen and have a late breakfast."

                    

~*~

                    

Upon reaching the kitchen I spy the that there really is very little meat to be found, despite what the others thought. I almost wish the dwarves' suspicions were true, a slab of meat would have been divine after a dinner of leaves.

I was able to contend myself with a loaf of bread as I watch the elves hurry about the room. Not that their haste made them any less graceful, nor their actions seem menial.

More than once one would glance in my direction then continue on as if I wasn't there, not acknowledging me other than to refill my glass or plate with slices of fruit and bread.

By the fifth time the elves say something in their language and laugh, I can't help but glare. "That's very rude."

"So fierce for one so small." An elf pats me on the head and smiles down as wine fills my glass once more.

Before I can respond, from the doorway, Thorin says icily, "I believe I called for my hireling to attend me some time ago."

" _Hireling_?" I growl. First he calls me burglar and hobbit as if it were an insult, and now he is basically calling me his servant. " _Hireling_?"

"Contracted specialist," Balin says soothingly from behind Thorin's shoulder. "Come along, Briar, come along. There is something we would speak with you about. We can do so away from all these distractions."

"I think now is not a good time to do so," I say as I glance at Thorin.

I sweep past Thorin grandly, holding my head high. Twirling out of reach just as him tries to grab a handful of the back of my shirt. "Burglar, I would speak to you."

"Well, I don't want to speak to you." I say as I walk away toward my room.

Changing my mind, I head off to see more of Rivendell. The entire time I wonder how beautiful the view would be from above in my other form.

                    

~*~

                    

It shouldn't have been a surprise that Thorin was waiting in my room, looking beyond furious. As it was, though, the sight of him sitting at my writing table is enough to shake me from my thoughts. "What on earth are you doing in my bedroom uninvited? Have you no understanding of private?"

He doesn't bother answering, just rolls his eyes. "I should not find out from an elf that my burglar has been talking out of turn."

"I'm not your anything," I snap. The smell of him, something sharp and bitter clouding over an earthly freshness, agitating me greatly. "I'm entirely my own person, thank you very much, and there was nothing in the contract that allowed you to just barge into my personal quarters at any time and invade my privacy!"

"The contract specifies I provide your accommodations to all practical extent. Right of entry is implied." Waving a hand dismissively as I am about to object, he says, "You should be with the company. We could not reach you in time if there was danger, nor could you reach us."

It didn't seem as if he is going away, but that doesn't mean I have to pay attention to him. Granted, he is hard to ignore, but I am more than willing to make the effort. Skirting around where he sat, I look through some of the clothing the elves had left in the closet for me.

"You shouldn't take charity from the elves," he says in his rumbling voice, and it takes all the control I have not to toss him from the room.

"Whether or not I choose to accept help from elves is just that, my choice," I growl, fighting back my body's natural reaction to bear my fangs or spit fire. "I'll take what I need and say thank you, rather than cut my nose off to spite my face."

Standing up to loom over me, he thunders, "You are in my employ and you--"

Placing my hands on my hips, I glare right back at him. "You might be king to the rest of the company, but you're not _my_ king, my kin _nor_ my father! I'm going to do what's best for the myself _and_ company, no matter what your orders might be!"

His eyes lock with mine and the moment feels charged with something I don't quite know how to define. Like two predators squaring off to see who gets the kill and who becomes the kill. He steps closer, just a slight shift of his weight, and I feel as though my skin is on the verge of turning into scales to defend myself. Before I can even blink, he turns away and walks out, slamming the door behind him. I sink down onto the edge of the bed, feeling strangely shaky.

Another thought crosses my mind. Would he leave without me when the time came, angry as he is?

                    

~*~

                    

The need to _go_ , to move, to even just walk the halls is too strong to resist anymore.

The pads of my feet soundless on the stone, I trail off after every new scent I encounter. Keeping to the shadows, my body blends easily into the dark making my blue eyes look as if they were floating.

Focused, I can hear the footfalls of the elves before they pass by my hiding place in the shadows.

I nearly startle more than one elf as I make my way through Rivendell as the sky grows dark.

I stop as I think of the freedom that comes with night. No one would think to look to the skies and if they do, who would notice a dark shape among the darker sky?

The thought is calling to me like a siren song.

The risk is too great, I remind myself, you are in the company of dwarves. Off to face one of your own kind.

The unease that follows drives me back toward my room. Halfway back I stop, knowing that the dwarves will come find me for whatever reason they feel like at the time. Thankfully a closed door is more of a solid obstacle for them now that they know I am female, though not a much as it should be given Thorin's attitude. The thought of seeing any of them while in this frame of mind is enough to send me in the opposite direction of my room.

                    

~*~

                    

"Good evenin'," I'd been wandering the halls of Rivendell for some time, so tired that I couldn't feel the slightest urge to sleep but too stubborn to turn around and take a chance on encountering anyone until my wild mood lifts. The quiet voice coming out of the darkness would have made me jump if I hadn't heard him coming down the path.

"Good evening, Mister Bofur."

Kindly, he says, "Just call me Bofur, if ya don't mind. You lost yer way as well?"

"No, merely wandering without a care," I smile, feeling lighter somehow.

Patting the bench beside him, he says, "Would you be willin' to accompany me back? After a little rest, o' course."

With a happy sigh, I sit beside him and look out at a garden terrace overlooking a small waterfall. "Do you know, I could probably tell you most of the plants in this garden? But all I can do is probably poison people with them. I never bothered to learn how plants could be used to heal, only how to cook them," I think for a moment, "Though that would end the same in this case. What a Hobbit can have is not the same for a Dwarf, I imagine."

"Cert'nly not. See if you gave a dwarf large amounts of that there verbena," Bofur nods toward the plant. "He'd become giddy and, after enough of it, wouldn't even be able ta breathe."

"I thought as much that plants would have different effects on the different races."

With a smile, Bofur says, "You're far brighter than Ori claims ya are."

"I read," I grimace at the sound of superiority in my words. "I mean I spent a lot of time reading back at the Shire. It was the one thing to do that had no rules or boundaries. I could go anywhere, be anyone, do anything."

"And now you're here, a burglar, on a journey to face a dragon," he says, his eyes twinkling. "This is only the beginning. Ya did well enough with those trolls, didn' you?"

"Gandalf saved us, not me."

"True enough, but you gave him the time ta do so." I can't resist returning his coaxing smile with one of my own, and he sighs happily. "Stick with it, lass. I stand to make a packet if ya make it through ta the end with us."

"Why on earth would you make that wager?" Surprise flooding my voice.

Shrugging, Bofur says, "The odds were very temptin', very temptin' indeed, and you remind me of myself when I was younger. Once I got my feet under me, I never let anythin' stop me from doing as I meant to."

"I can only hope to be worthy of the compliment." I smile softly, grateful to feel like I have more than one genuine friend in the company.

We sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, until finally Bofur says, "I think it's time we headed back, 'fore the others send out a search party."

Yawning I agree as my second wind deserts me, and I stumble my way to my room after guiding Bofur back to camp, all without passing any dwarves or elves. It is something to be grateful for as I leave a trail of clothes on my floor before crawling into the beautifully soft bed and fall deeply asleep.

                    

~*~

                    

It is far, far too soon to be woken up by the sound of my door being slammed open. Pulling the covers over my head with a whine of protest. "Come on, Briar, up you get. It's time for some exploration."

Poking out of the covers, I glare at Kili, "Now?"

"Yes, now!" His glee so early in the morning is torture.

Groaning, I cover my head, "Could I have a few moments to get dressed, _please_?"

With a smile, Kili says, "Be outside in five minutes, or I'm to drag you out in whatever you're wearing at the time."

"Your uncle taught you that growing up, didn't he?"

The young dwarf just smiles wider and walks out the door.

Waiting until the door is closed, I scramble for my spare clothes.

I was going to be having _words_ with a certain someone later. I pull on my clothes quickly, yanking the door open to walk out. Kili stands by the door as I finish the last button on my shirt.

"Exactly where are we exploring?"

"Everywhere."

"Of course."

                    

~*~

                    

The following days are much the same.

Kili would come barging in and haul me away to explore with him.

Then it would be hours and hours before Kili finally decides we can stop and eat. Somewhere along the way, the two of us pick up Ori, Fili and Bofur.

Ori by the library the first day. Kili having just enough patience to let Ori mark his place in the book he was reading as I scan over the titles on the table left by the elves. By the third day, it was Bofur by the garden smoking a pipe by himself. Fili would find us out of boredom by the end of lunch most days, sometimes showing up in the morning with Kili, bleary eyed as me.

Occasionally, we encounter the others and elves alike through out our wanderings. We find mostly empty rooms and endless pathways twisting this way and that. The others becoming hopelessly lost after a time.

One memorable day, we got both Dwalin and Bifur to 'go for a swim' in the fountain. In full view of everyone, they splashed about in their skivvies.

Most nights I was in the library, pouring over every book I can get my hands on regardless of if I can fully understand the words or not.

                    

~*~

                    

After two weeks of endless exploring, the five of us made our way to the makeshift campground for dinner as the sun begins to set. We'd been told that someone had gone hunting and none of us wants to miss out on the meal.

It's a merry gathering, passing around ale and plates of roast boar, and I am able to slip in unnoticed. The others not so much. There are calls of where they have been and why they were gone for so long. Sitting between Dwalin and Kili, I exchange small smiles with Bofur.

Soon enough, the dwarves are singing, playful songs with words they make up on the spot, passing around the next line at random and yet making it work. I am laughing so hard that I'm on the verge of crying.

Fili drags me to my feet and leads me through a dance I am barely able to follow. It goes much more smoothly as the music speeds up and I loses myself to the beat. Faster and faster we move, the others laughing and cheering and stomping their feet in time, until eventually Fili gets tripped up by his own feet. The others roar with laughter as he nearly falls against Bombur, catching himself at the last moment.

My cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much.

"Burglar." Thorin's voice isn't loud, but it doesn't need to be. The rest of the noise dies away, leaving my ears throbbing at the sudden lack. "Balin. We are needed."

I can't think of a reason why anyone would call for me, but I don't dare say so. Balin's smile has disappeared and I follow along behind him, hoping I haven't done anything to upset Thorin more. Being led down through a series of caves really doesn't help make it any easier.

Moon runes and prophecies seem like things a hobbit had no business being involved in, especially with the way the dwarves and Gandalf seem to be avoiding the disclosure of the journey's true purpose.

The only thing that keeps me from slipping away is that every time I so much as even shift my weight, I am being pinned in place by a hard stare from Thorin.

"There are some who would not deem it wise," Elrond says calmly. He shakes his head, holding up his hand in a pacifying gesture. "I will not stop you from leaving whenever you wish, although Mithrandir is called to a meeting of the White Council tomorrow to discuss the implications of this quest."

"Then we leave tonight," Thorin says, his face hard as he snatches the map back and thrusts it into an inside pocket of his gambeson.

Gandalf shakes his head, stroking his chin. "No. You must be here when Saruman arrives, or he will be in an easy position to bypass the meeting and stop you. No, you will leave while we are busy in our discussions; there is something I need to present to the council, in any case."

"Why did you warn us?" It isn't so much a question as a demand, but I'm not sure that Thorin _could_ simply ask something otherwise, especially of an elf.

With a lift of an eyebrow, Elrond manages to convey how completely unimpressed he is by Thorin's bluster.

"I doubt there is anything I could do that would stop you or change your minds. So I will not waste my time nor yours with an attempt." Elrond sweeps out, followed by Gandalf, and I step closer to the edge of the precipice we have been standing on, staring out at the night sky in wonder. Glancing down at the sheer drop, I feel an itch at my back, my wings wishing to unfurl.

Turning to Thorin to ask a question, I freeze at the glare that he is aiming at me. I can't think of anything to say. When he finally turns away contemptuously, my thoughts swirl. What have I done that is so wrong? Why does he seem to hate me so?

The comforting pat Balin gives my shoulder as he follows Thorin doesn't help much, and I sigh before making my way up the smaller, almost hidden staircase to the left. Wherever I end up, it is better than having to trail them back and have the others pick up immediately on Thorin's attitude. I can't bear a return to the distance of before with the rest of the company, not after the feeling of acceptance that has swept over me after the last week and the impromptu party.

                    

~*~

                    

I head to the library to see if there is anything I might need that the elves would be willing to part with. On previous encounters, the keeper of the library gave permission to take some of the books with us when the company finally decides to leave.

It somehow isn't surprising that Ori is there, stealthily reading the titles of every book written in Westron. "We can take some."

"Can we?" Ori's eyes light up and he almost instantly has five books in his arms. "We can't weigh ourselves down too much or Mister Thorin will be upset."

"So we'll have to choose carefully." Looking around, I sigh as I spot familiar titles. "I think we should start with these."

Leaving Ori to start looking through the books I'd placed on the table. "Do you know if they have any books about dwarves? Or about Erebor?"

"Maps as well," I add as I place two down. "And information about dragons. Though it's not very informative. Oh, and one on how different herbs and remedies affect different races for Oin."

Leading him through the shelves, I reach out seemingly at random, stacking books into his arms and my own until we are forced to return to our large study table set before an open window. Dismayed at the size of the pile, Ori says, "I think we would need a separate pony just for books in order to take these."

"You can't read elvish, can you?" Ori shakes his head mournfully, as he pages through a beautifully illustrated book about flowers.

"I know a few words of Sindarin and other languages, but not enough to be fluent, so there's no need for half of these," I say, studying a map to try to make sense of it despite not being able to decipher half of what is written on it.

With a few efficient motions, I return about half of the books to their proper places and add two more to our pile. "Perhaps if you could tell me what you're looking for in more detail. Remember, we're on a journey," I say with a rueful smile. "And, unfortunately, it means we're extremely limited in what we can carry through the wilderness."

Sucking in his cheeks, Ori thinks hard about what was really needed as he looks the books over.

I look over the books thoughtfully before picking out two. "These will serve Oin well as they stand, covering the identification of plants to the east of the Misty Mountains and basic healing techniques for all of Arda's races. We'll come in the morning for them, and any maps we'll need."

"Can't we take them now?" Ori looks like he itched to stuff all the books in his satchel and run so far that none could stop him. I've only ever seen a look that covetous when Lobelia had seen the silverware that had been handed down to Bungo and then back to myself. They are a Bag End family heirloom, and Lobelia has craved the status of being a "real" Baggins as much or more as the actual silver.

"There are some things that will need to be copied after we've finished sorting, but they will be ready long before we'll need them." With a small smile, I say, "And I'm sure you may come back and visit after our journey to learn their language as you please."

Ori looks thrilled and terrified in equal measure at the thought of returning here.

                    

~*~

                    

Once the sky grew dark, Ori returned to the company. I remain to finish making copies of the many books we have chosen, but can not take, into the three thick journals the elves had left for us to use. Those, along with the others, equaled seven books in total.

All of which would be added to my pack, except the two about plants. Those would be going to Oin and the one Ori has clutched to his chest the moment he read the title.

I have no problem spending the whole night in the library. Though my kind loves to sleep for long periods of time, like a cat, nights of missed sleep won't hurt me in the least.

It's in the early morning pre-dawn light that I finally return to my room to pack up.

Replacing everything back to where it belongs, I run to the kitchen to grab some lembas bread to add to my supplies. Once I return I take a much needed, though quick, bath.

Afterwards, I dress then lift my pack and head off to join the others just as the sun finally rises.

                    

~*~

                    

In the end, I don't regret forsaking my bed as the sight of the cheerful company of the dwarves sleeping in a massive dog pile more than makes up for it.

As I hand over a blank journal and a block of what I've been assured is ink, it just needs to be mixed with water in order to be usable, Ori looks as if he wants to hug me for my thoughtfulness. Ignoring his gratitude, I shoot him a look full of wry amusement. "Just make sure you study that Sindarin so we can have a proper conversation about books when this journey is over. And don't forget to write me as well, if you can."

He gives a small bow and a soft smile before going to add the items to his own pack.

The sight makes me dare to hope that I will still get to see his smiling face after all is said and done.

The tension that fills me at that thought is enough to smother any happiness I might have.

The feeling left me to sit awkwardly and shift my weight as we all wait for word to head out.

The next words I hear are curt orders to stand up and move quickly down to the exit Lord Elrond has advised us to take.

The first stage is a blur of rushing away and making sure to stay hidden, but once we are well away from Rivendell and into the foothills, it starts seeming more like one of the walking holidays I take when I am feeling restless. Turning my face up to the sun, I sigh happily thinking of the number of gold spots on my scales increasing, "I'm going to freckle even more. I probably should have brought a hat."

"Freckles are beautiful," Dori says stoutly, and I grin as I look at him and at his two very freckly younger brothers.

"They're not considered the thing in the Shire, I've been given many a number of recipes on how to get rid of them, all kindly offered by well-meaning folk." Adjusting the straps of my pack and shrugging it higher on my shoulders, I add, "Of course, my mother never gave a fig about that. She called them kisses from the sun, and would kiss each of the freckles on my face herself when she put me to bed."

"No," Ori says flatly, glaring at Dori.

His older brother coughs and tries to look as if he hadn't been smiling. "Just thinking ahead. You're much too old and grown up for anything of the sort, but I'll have nephews someday."

"Or sons," Ori retorts. "And good luck to them."

"We'll just have to kidnap them once in a while." I watch as both jump, neither had even noticed Nori falling into step beside us until he spoke, and it makes me chuckle. "Be bad influences, keep them from growing up too prim and proper."

Frowning a little, I say, "What if they're girls? Will you make sure they aren't too prim and proper?"

The three of them just look uncomfortable at the question and fell silent. At length, Nori says, "That's not... It's not really something we talk about."

"I'm terribly sorry. I meant no offensive. Gandalf may have mentioned that there were some cultural differences, I suppose you could say. I should have paid more attention. I truly am sorry."

From the front of the party, Thorin shouts, "Keep up! We've no time for market-day strolls!" I fight back a glare even as I pick up speed, concentrating on walking as we make our way farther from Rivendell.

                    

~*~

                    

By the time the rain starts a few days later, we've missed lunch several times over, and are well on our way to missing dinner again, and my hunger is starting to gnaw at me. The foothills have given way to bare rock, and if I have to listen to one more word about gold, the primary topic amongst dwarves for cheering each other up, I might just eat them myself.

We stop for dinner, if it can be called that. No fire, no shelter but a rock overhang, no meal other than lembas bread passed around and chewed with grim determination. I take mine and start walking again, because no rest is better than the pretense that rest would be possible in these circumstances. I hear a few groans behind me, but the inevitable order to continue comes as I expected.

Thankfully, the order to rest for the night finally did come, and I slip away as the others fall into a fitful sleep.

Heading to the closest cliff face, I dive off and change. My wings fill with the wild wind, nearly throwing me back into the mountain.

Knowing I only have so much time, I scan for prey quickly. Spotting a herd of deer at the edge of the foothills, I waste no time in diving.

The kill is quick and clean. Snatching two does from the air, I don't bother landing. Swallowing them whole, I go back for three more. One, a young buck, had fallen and snapped its neck when its antlers caught a branch.

Licking the blood from my snout, I change back once I land on the cliff. Rushing to camp, the warmth and satisfaction of a good kill filling my veins as I collect firewood along the way.

                    

~*~

                    

I almost can't find it in myself to be scared when the stone giants start fighting, the buzz of a full stomach completely dulling my senses. The terror only strikes when I see that Kili had almost fallen to his death trying to leap over to join his brother on the ledge they are still trapped on, only saved by the combined efforts of the three dwarves closest to him. Reaching out, I take a firm hold of Fili's arm, pulling him closer even as he screams his brother's name.

"We must jump!" I'm not sure who says it, can't hope to tell in all of the noise and confusion, but my hold on Fili as he attempts to move is enough to set me in motion. I do my best to not be noticed as I add force to Fili's jump with a push and follow as we all leap from the stone giant onto a ledge that will hopefully stay still.

I don't quite make it.

Dangling from a tenuous hold, I close my eyes and breath through my nose as I dig my claws into the stone. I can hear the others shouting and hope none sees how my hands grip the rocks.

It is inevitable that I would slip, but my other hand shoots out and grabs an arm like iron, another wrapping around my waist. I want to scream at the stupid dwarf, but I can't when Thorin's face is inches away, shouting curses and ordering me to climb up. Scrambling, I manage to raise myself enough to reach for the hands outstretched to me, falling into Balin's side. Only to look on in shock as Thorin slips as Dwalin tries to haul him back up.

Without a thought, I launch forward. My hand grasping Thorin's arm as Dwalin's hand slips through his fingers.

Dwalin falls to his backside in shock at the sight.

With one yank, I have the dwarf back on solid ground. His momentum nearly slamming him against the mountainside.

The stunned silence confuses me for a moment, before it clicks in my mind. The company had just witnessed a hobbit lift and practically 'fling' a full grown dwarf with one hand as if he weighted no more than a pebble.

"It might be best if we find shelter like Balin said," I say to break the quiet of the group.

"That would be best," Thorin growls as he gives me an odd look.

Those in front start to look for a place to weather out the storm. There is a shout from Balin and we all tumble into the large cave he's found.

None feel much like talking as we all settle down, and I curl up in my bedroll so that I can avoid any questions until I drift off to sleep.

                    

~*~

                     

I'm not sure how long it has been, not very as my shirt and coat are still soaking wet, plastered to the rock I'd placed them on, but I wake up to darkness and the unmistakable sound of the something moving in the mountain around me.

Moving slowly, I look around and see the others are still asleep. Kili is on watch and is, unfortunately, already slumped over. I notice that Thorin has woken at the sound of my movement. Carefully, I ease myself up and start to move toward him to ask if he can tell where the source of the sounds were coming from.

"Briar?" Bofur blinks as I make to walk past him, and I would have cursed if I hadn't been trying to be silent. "Where're you going?"

"shh," I hold a finger to my lips, then motion to the others. "Can you hear that?"

Shaking his head in answer as well as to clear it, I whisper, "I think there's something else here, either farther back or in a cave below us."

Blinking the sleep away, he looks around as well, only to settle on me.

Seeing his eyes widen, I look down and realize I had forgotten I'd removed my coat and shirt to sleep. Leaving my altered waistcoat and bare stomach for all to see.

"You..." Bofur sounds squeaky. "You're _female_?"

Not caring about my attire, I hold my finger to my lips again to keep him quiet.

But it's too late, the others are already waking. There are grumblings at first and looking around for the source of the noise.

There is a near silent "Oh!" that draws everyone's attention to its cause.

The sudden silence is almost eerie. The sight of dropped jaws nearly all around even more so. "Really, you're all that surprised? I thought you told them?" I look to Thorin as I ask.

It is a fair question, even if most of the company shot the dwarf in question a poisonous look. Only three looking elsewhere, Ori blushes madly, Bofur tries to act like he hadn't know, and Balin sighs deeply.

Before anything could be said, the world seems to fall away underneath our feet.

                    

~*~

                    

Falling through the floor of the cave should have been terrifying, if I'd been a hobbit, mostly it's just annoying. It is made worse by starting and stopping repeatedly, bouncing from one rock wall to the next, each time seeing the terrified faces of the dwarrow as they reach and struggle keep each other from falling further down.

With ease I twist about with each free fall, landing on my hands and feet each time. More than once I reach out and right the others to prevent a broken limb or cracked skull as we fall.

The final landing is intensely jarring, a cage-like wooden structure swaying around us as the others try to find their feet. We are overwhelmed by untold numbers of goblins, foul and reeking and somehow just _wrong_. The dwarves fight like tigers, ferocious and determined, but they have no chance against the sheer number of enemies swarming over us. Someone's hand on my head shoves me to the ground and I stay where I am put for but a moment.

Screams in the dwarvish language ring out as they are dragged away one by one, fighting so hard that my blood burns to join. It seems they will fall off the edge of the narrow walkways and bridges that stretch out over infinite blackness if even one more joins the fray.

I'm being left behind. As I creep forward, I see the others notice my absence.

"RUN!" Bofur locks eyes with me, frantic and pleading, and I turn in time to see a goblin drop down to seize me by the hair. Fumbling for my sword, I twist and end up overbalancing both of us, rolling over the side of the walkway and falling into oblivion once more.

                    

~*~

                    

I land in a patch of giant mushrooms that smells faintly like boots. I barely have a bruise or scrape from sliding against the walls on the way down a second time. Fortunately, the goblin that had attacked isn't as sturdy.

Standing up, I easily see the goblin as it snarls and tries to get up.

My eyes adjust to the darkness instantly, making things out in the weak light that glow from some of the rocks and mushrooms.

A noise draws my attention back to the goblin. What I see makes me startle, because a strange creature is looming over the wounded goblin and beating its head in with a rock.

I watch as the creature drags the dead goblin away, further into the dark.

Following along at a distance, hoping it would lead me out, I spot something gold on the ground.

A ring. Shimmering, with runes dancing on the inside.

Just as my fingers touch it, magic flares through my veins. It calls to me, like the gold sickness of men and dwarves that I'd heard tales of.

Only it's stronger, twisted, like the very thing wants to devour me.

Pulling my hand back in shock, I stare at the little trinket. I can't leave something like this to be found. No one should have something this wicked.

Cautiously, I slip it in to my pocket. I then rush to catch up with the creature, shaking the discomfort from my skin as I go.

I come upon a cavern of sorts, filled mostly with water. There, on a rock in the middle of the underground lake, is the creature.

Looking about while keeping it in my line of sight, I notice a tunnel that seems brighter than the others.

"What is it, precious?" The voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere as the creature disappears from atop the rock, then reappears moments later directly in the water a few feet in front of me, its gaunt face pulled in to a sickening smile. "Is it soft? Is it _juicy_? What is it?"

"It is very _rude_ to call someone an it." I say as I draw and hold out my sword, the point touches the creature as it tries to come closer.

"It hurts us!" The creature's howling is pitiful as it flings itself back, but I just shift my grip and keep my sword ready. "The elves made it, they made it, nasty, nasty, _cruel_ elves!"

Cautiously, I say, "I'm not sorry it hurt, I only wanted to make sure you didn't try to hurt me."

"We was not going to _hurt_ the thing, no, we wasn't, precious!" I don't believe a word, then the creature claps his hands and says happily, "We was just going to _eats_ it!"

Waving the sword back in his direction, I say, "Well, I don't want to be eaten. I wish to leave this place and find my friends."

The thing wipes its spindly hands over its mouth. "Friends tasty? Friends juicy? Friends crunchy? Like fishes? Yes, yes, juicy, crunchy, scrumptious fishes!" Clapping his hands again and hopping from foot to foot, the thing says, "Never thirsty, always drinking, all in mail, never clinking!"

"Oh, you like riddles." My mind going over a way to part with this creature and get out from under the wretched mountain. If need be I could just change and tear apart the mountain to rescue the dwarves. "Perhaps we could trade riddles while you show me the way out?"

"Riddles! We love riddles! We will help if it wins! We knows the way!" It looks at me softly then turns and glares. "But if we win, we eats it!" it says as it reaches for me again but backs away when the sword swings toward him again.

"Deal. Which way?"

                    

~*~

                    

We trade riddles, the little creature gleeful and resentful in turns, but the air is gradually getting fresher and I take it as a good sign.

"Why on earth do you make that noise? Gollum, gollum?" I can't help but ask.

"Nasty, mean, calling us names." It turns back towards me, a look of such malevolence in its eye that I automatically take a step back, my hand going into my pocket to grasp the ring to protect it.

It reaches for something, only to look frantic as it searches the ground. "Nasty, horrible-- _Thief!_ "

My hand clenches as it lunges, the ring slides over and around the tip of my index finger as I move out of the way.

It moves with terrible swiftness back to where I last stood, sniffing along the wall where I'd been.

Everything looks distorted as I watch it howl, broken nails digging gouges into its own skin as it cries out for its birthday present.

"We hates it, we _hates_ it! We will crunch its bones and take back the precious, yes, eat up the nasty little _thief_! Nasty hobbitses!"

It starts crawling on hands and knees as it searches.

Looking down at the ring, I can't help but feel revulsion as its magic crawls over my skin. I want nothing more than to take it off and throw it away. But I can't, not with that thing right there and no way out of the mountain.

The creature starts muttering to itself about where I might have gone.

With my sword back in its sheath, I follow the creature as it takes off to the exit in an attempt to catch me.

                    

~*~

                    

The sun felt heavenly on my skin as I run after the scent of dwarves.

Once I am a good distance away the cave entrance, I allow myself a chance to really breathe.

"We have to go back!" The shout makes me feel like laughing, just like the mad little creature I left behind in the darkness, because it's Kili and that means he is alive and possibly the others as well.

Quickly, I yank of the ring, stuffing it into my pocket once more and turn to join them, only to pause when Thorin speaks.

"We can't," Thorin says grimly. "We have no chance of surviving another encounter with the tender mercies of a goblin horde."

"Are you suggesting that we leave our burglar behind to face them alone?" Gandalf looks down at Thorin from his considerable height and my breath catches as I wait for the response.

Clenching a fist, Thorin says, "You know that we can't. She should have never come with us to begin with. This journey is no place for a hobbit, especially a woman. If she made it out, she most likely headed back for the Shire, where she belongs."

My heart caught in my throat at the raw pain on Thorin's face, clearly visible as he turns to hide it from the rest of the company. "We had no right to take her from her home in a bid to reclaim our own."

I walk out from behind a tree and head toward the others, though none notice. "You didn't 'take' me from my home, I chose to join you of my own free will."

" _Briar_!" Kili is the first to reach me, running into me with a hug. I hug him just as hard. "You're alive!"

"Hobbits are sturdier than they look," I say wryly, as he pulls away. "I fell from the pathway, but I landed softly."

Eyes twinkling, Gandalf says, "And stole yourself away, as a good burglar should."

"How did you escape?" Thorin looks forbidding again.

Waving my hand through the air, I say, "That's not important now. What matters is getting you back to your home."

Balin shakes his head. "Lass, you don't understand--"

A howl in the distance makes all of us jump. It is unmistakably a warg, and there is no chance that it would be alone. We are running before any of us consciously choose to do so.

We run as far and fast as we can before the wargs start to draw close. Seeing the cliff ahead, there is no choice but to climb. With ease, I leap onto the closest tree limb, then the next and the next.

The orcs and wargs approach as the sun sinks from the sky, taking their time now that their quarry is trapped so thoroughly. I move from branch to branch as the others fight the rider-less wargs, covering each other's escape into the trees. I offer a hand where needed.

We are chased into the other trees as the first starts to fall. Until we are trapped in the last tree at the cliff's edge.

Gandalf starts throwing flaming pine cones and soon we all are, driving the wargs back to where their orc masters watch and wait.

It isn't enough.

The tree soon starts to give, falling backward over the edge. The roots being the only thing keeping us up.

Fall thousands of feet to our deaths or be torn apart by wargs seems like horrible choices.

The pale orc is unmistakable, and I wish I didn't understand what it says. Gandalf shouts for them to hold on, but the orc steps forward with a terrible smile, pointing his mace directly at where Thorin is perched. He doesn't look back as he brings himself up to stand on the trunk of the half-fallen tree, getting his balance and then stepping forward.

Someone screams Thorin's name, a desperate no. He pays not the slightest attention, all his focus on the orc as he strides forward and breaks into a run, his sword flashing. It seems like he can conquer anything, but the white warg leaps and Thorin falls, only to rise and fall again when it goes for his throat.

I scramble to my feet, for once not thinking anything of the great danger of revealing myself or how very easily the dwarves might turn on me. All I can think is that he is alone, and he shouldn't be.

There is no time to wait, no chance of someone else being the one to charge in, because there _is_ no one else. I refuse to watch Thorin Oakenshield die. Silent as death, I charge forward, knocking the orc off balance and piercing his heart with one thrust of my sword. I see another one move and raise the bloodied sword again, standing over Thorin with the calm determination that I would kill any that dare try to touch him.

The first of the warg riders is almost on me when I hear battle cries and then there is Dwalin's axe and Fili's sword. I swing my sword and move my feet like I am dancing with warg and rider both as I add more force with each swing.

I don't realize the eagles are there until the warg that had stupidly been about to try to rip out my throat is picked up and thrown over the cliff's edge. I look around desperately and see that the orcs are retreating, being harried by sharp beaks and talons. An eagle picks up Thorin and I rush to pick up his sword as it had fallen from his hand, knowing he would want it back when he woke up. He has to wake up, no matter how pale and still he looks; he has to.

I find myself picked up in the eagle's claws and then tossed over the cliff, much like the wargs had been, only then I am on another eagle's back and holding on for dear life. "I never imagined I'd see the sky like this."

"It is a rare sight indeed, little sister. Do not worry, you will not fall."

I nearly jump, startled beyond words to hear the eagle speak. "I never thought I would. You are to good a flyer to even let that happen, are you not?"

The eagle doesn't answer, and I wonder if I offended him somehow.

They flew on for hours, towards the rising sun, and I keep shooting anxious looks at the others but most especially Thorin, the only one still being clutched in an eagle's claws instead of carried in the comparatively safety of its back. When we at last were set down on a bare, high rock, Gandalf is the first to reach him, and his grave look makes me hesitate.

"The lass?" Thorin's voice is weak, but it's there and he is _alive_. My knees almost go weak with relief.

My ears are buzzing and I can't make out what Gandalf says in return, nor what any of the others say as they crowd around Thorin. It isn't until he is on his feet, his piercing gaze on my face, that I can understand what is being said. "You! You nearly got yourself killed! What did you think you were doing?"

Before I can say anything, he picks me up, shaking me by the shoulders before gathering me into a tight embrace.

"You must never take a risk like that again," he says as he lets me go, stepping back to a respectable distance. " _Never_ , for all that I owe you my thanks, and my apologies for ever doubting you."

"Yes, well, I'll try to avoid certain death in the future," I mumble.

He smiles, just a little, but it is enough to have me smiling hesitantly in return before I am being clapped on the back, pulled into rough hugs, and made much of by the rest of the company. Balin holds me by my shoulders, his eyes twinkling. "You might make a decent swordsman yet!"

"Aye, but the lad's got no battle cry," Dwalin says with a laugh.

"Oh, I don't know," Balin says, stroking his beard with his free hand. "It's not traditional, I'll grant you, but it would seem to fit her."

I duck my head as I roll my eyes, then look up at the silence that follows.

"Our home." It is a whisper, but there is so much emotion in Thorin's voice that I feel it down to the bone as we all turn to follow his gaze towards the Lonely Mountain. It is beautiful, undoubtedly so, but I find that I can't look away from the others' faces and the raw emotions shown there. I never thought I'd see Thorin look so happy, the hope and longing in all their eyes is almost painful to see.

                    

~*~

                    

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **a/n:** finally, my hands hurt some much right now. nine-ish hours of writing is torture! and yet all i want to do is write the next part. and of course i finish the last one first.
> 
> Started 11/16/14, Finished 11/17/14


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